By God these demonic aside poisoned individuals breathe fair easily right about now- the time has arrived for the pacened race to hold its lambasting tongue and to finally see to feel anything atop quantified everything .

There are artists out there with enough brains to burn themselves and their own canvas dry- High and Spritely bipolar break in the empire of no less almighty .

A need for constant entertainment and they simply cannot figure where it all falls from .

The ponder-some, comedically touched , rigorously enhanced intellect-
Which way shall the dastardly penny stop to glimmer and drop next though ?

Manner of gargantuan, albeit self-loathed respect typically garnered .

By the eye of the irrationality-complexed storm .

Where their lukewarm days turn out to be you and your least re-visited , artistically magnificent scorching hot summer evenings .
Pithy in comparison .

Recall it all .
For , undeniably , their second best is your undoubtedly righteous finest moment . Alive .

That bone-dry fired canvas can and will reconfigure and recover itself to go again .

Their pens are unbelievably fixated upon imperfect perfection .

And these Booker Prizes run amuck either way they accept to take it .